Stupidity
by Butterflies and Roses
Summary: Stephanie Meyer arrives at her latest book-signing, only to find that her chair is missing.


I wasn't quite sure I should post this at first, but then I figured, 'Why the hell not?'

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At the break of dawn, (Ha ha, do ya get it? Break of dawn? Breaking Dawn? Oh, forget it, that pun sucked...) Stephanie Meyer showed up at her latest book-signing, excited to see all of her fans, and the fights that were sure to break out between Team Edward and Team Jacob. This book signing was to be held at one of those big-chain bookstores that are all over the country. She arrived before it was open and went through the back door. This measure was taken so there wouldn't be any crazy Twi-hards attacking her and trying to get a lock of her hair before the actual signing. (Creepy...)

A bored part-time employee was to show her to the book-signing table, because Meyer was prone to easily get distracted and lose her way if someone didn't help her.

"Hey," the blonde employee, who shall be called Kathy, said as she chewed on her fruit-flavored gum.

"Hello!" Stephanie said excitedly. "Oh, I'm so excited! I get to see all of my fans today, and hear them gush over how much they love my Edward!" She clapped her hands with even more excitement.

_Why do I always have to deal with the nutjobs_? Kathy thought to herself. "Just... follow me..."

So, they did that. Kathy led Stephanie to her speeshul book-signing desk. A luxurious black cloth was cast over it, and silver glittered sparkled across the surface. There were three black, white, and red fountain pens on the table, carefully arranged so they were all parallel to each other. Behind the table was a GIANT (No not just giant, more like REALLY REALLY FREAKING HUGE) cardboard display of every book, and the words 'Twilight Book-Signing' written across the top with that twilight font they use on the book with the weird extensions of the letters. There were cardboard cut-outs of Edward and Bella on one side of the sign, and Jacob was on the other.

SM looked out at the author of this story. "Was it really necessary to go into that much detail?"

...Are you seriously talking to _me_ about how to describe things? HAVE YOU EVEN READ YOUR BOOKS?!

"...Good point," Stephy said.

"Who are you talking to?" Kathy asked.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "No one..." She walked over to the table and sat down. She fell back on the floor with a shriek.

"Where's the chair?!" Smeyer yelled at Kathy. "Where's my %&$#ing chair?! I can't do this book-signing without my chair! What, do you expect to stand up for the whole time?! What's your deal?! You're one of those people who hates my books, aren't you?! Look, just because I suck at creating characters, Bella was based off of me, I over-use adjectives, I can't create decent plots, Renesmèe's birth completely defied every rule about vampires I had put in my book, Edward's a stalker, every single guy at Forks was fawning over my main character, Bella only loves Edward because he's hot, my books support pedophilia and necrophilia, and Bella's a weak woman who can't live without her boyfriend, that doesn't mean that my books are bad!" Meyer's eyes were livid and her face was red with anger. And possibly insanity.

Kathy stared at the mad woman, wondering if she forgot to take her crazy pills that morning. "I haven't even read your books, and I don't know where your chair is. But I can go _get_ it for you if you like."

Smeyer straightened up and huffily patted down her hair. "I would like that very much, thank you."

So, Kathy went to go get a chair. As she passed by the front door, she saw that Twilight fans were already lining up and squeeing over the chance to meet the God that created their Bible. She popped her gum and wondered why she didn't just phone in sick that day. She had a cold, so she really wouldn't have been lying.

After a bit of wandering, Kathy found Ms. Meyer's chair. Another employee (who shall be called Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player) was standing on the offending cushiony piece of furniture in order to put books on a very high up shelf (why they had shelves up so high that incompetent shoppers couldn't reach them, Kathy didn't know).

"Excuse me," Kathy said, tapping Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player on the shoulder. "I need that chair."

"Get your own chair!" Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player yelled, glaring down at her. He went back to putting away his books.

Kathy raised her eyebrows. She had thought Brad was fairly nice before, but this was just rude. "Uh, I'm sorry, but that's Stephanie Meyer's special chair, and if she doesn't get it back then she's going to stab me with her book-signing pens."

"I don't care, get her a new chair!" Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player yelled at her again.

Kathy wiped a bit of spit off of her face. "Can't you just use one of those wooden chairs over there?" She pointed to a nearby corner. "Or maybe that stool over there?" She pointed to a bookshelf not very far away.

"Hey, here's a crazy thought, maybe _you_ could get one of those for your precious author!" Then Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player swore at her, and Kathy was left gaping at him. Okay, maybe he wasn't a morning person, but, _jeeze_, did he have to be such an obnoxious jerk?

"You know what?" Kathy said as she took out her gum. "Chewing gum can help calm nerves." She then put the sticky substance in his golden hair, and walked away, taking a wooden chair with her as she went.

Brad the Golden-Haired Football Player realized what was in his hair and collapsed onto the floor sobbing, trying to coax the gum out. His beautiful, luxurious, gorgeous, _dazzling _golden hair had been all that he had left since he got kicked off of the football team a week ago. If he didn't have his hair, then he had nothing to live for.

Meanwhile, Bell--I mean, _Stephanie Meyer_, was waiting by her giant display. She had her hands clasped behind her back and was rocking back and forth, humming some sort of tune that she made up, because now that the book series was over she was going to go into composing music. Hey, if she could become a famous author when she knew nothing about writing, then why couldn't she become a famous composer when she knew nothing about music?

She saw the blonde employee girl whose name she forgot walking back with a chair.

"Finally!" Smeyer said. "It took you long eno--wait... that's not my chair."

"Look," Kathy said, "I _tried_ getting back your chair. But this obnoxious guy took it so he could put books on a high-up shelf, and he wouldn't give it back. So you'll just have to live with this."

Stephy stared at her with disbelief. "I'm _Stephanie _%&$#ing_ Meyer_, and I want my chair!" she yelled.

Kathy sighed and tried not to scowl. "Look, if you want your chair back so much, then go get it for yourself. I'm not doing anything else for you. Goodbye."

And with that, Kathy left. Who cares of she got fired for that, she could just go work at a CD store instead.

Unfortunately, when she walked through the front doors, the crowd of rabid fangirls trampled her in order to get inside and meet their God. Kathy was left crushed on the ground, bleeding profusely and with a few broken ribs. She was unable to move, and only when an average civilian showed up did she get help. But it was not enough, and Kathy died in at the hospital later that day.

If only she had called in sick.


End file.
